Pimms remembers being flushed with flattery, head-hunted, as they call it. Out to see the world, meet interesting people. Powell's glittering smile had been the opportunity of a lifetime.
He'd expected Asia from that decadent boudoir, but not without passports. He'd planned for Alpine, not Arctic, as the chills slipping through five layers attest.
Pimms had rather given up making connections, as well. Except, there is an interesting chap driving the dogsled behind him, and their respective conflicts of interest are mushing along ahead.
"Nippy, innit?" Bryce grins down, thighs pressing forward against the frame.
And Pimms smiles up. "Quite."